


Crush Culture

by erimeri (blujoonie)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Love Letters, Romance, Trixie is the wing woman, agatha is like, also!!, and call her dumb, baz and agatha brotp, but its more like, fem!SnowBaz, idiotic romance, idiots to lovers, kinda ig sjdjs, our original wlw icon, shitty poetry courtesy of simon snow, simon and trixie brotp, there to watch baz yearn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24272554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blujoonie/pseuds/erimeri
Summary: Baz Pitch is her mother’s daughter. She does everything her way even though she’s been gone for more than a decade.Her heart’s guarded, cold. Her exterior’s icy, her demeanor closed off.If she’s her mother's daughter, why do these love letters repeatedly showing up in her locker make her heart beat out of her chest?
Relationships: Simon Snow & Trixie (Simon Snow), Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 18
Kudos: 77





	Crush Culture

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello hello!! this fic is what happens when the only emotion my brain can comprehend is gay yearning,,, so have fun reading this idk what its supposed to be
> 
> thank u to [@clevelandy](https://motherscarf.tumblr.com/) for beta reading this!!! ur a saint ily ❤️❤️💓💗💘💘💛✨💗💘💛💓💛💓💖💓💛💕💘
> 
> — title from crush culture by conan gray —

**_BAZ_ **

My locker is covered in hearts. From the inside to the front. Paper  grey hearts feather into glitter, leading to a letter decorated with an array of jewels and glitter seated on  my textbooks. 

I have no idea what to make of this.

The first two things to think about are _who went through my locker and how did they get my code?_

Anyone related to Mr. Mage has access to the whole school's locker combinations. They’re stored in his office.

The only person who’s allowed to go in his office is Simon. And I fucking hate her.

At first I wonder if this is supposed to be her way of inviting me outside to have another brawl (she punches really, really hard. I still have a bruise on my right thigh.) ( At least she didn't pull my hair.)

I sigh as I reach for the letter, pulling my glasses down fro m my forehead  so I can read what it says.

_ You’re eyes as deep as slate. _

_ Your hair as smooth as silk. _

_ Spare me for one look at you makes hundreds drop dead. _

Both the letter and my jaw have found their way onto the floor.

This is  _ not  _ Simon’s writing. This is a fucking  _ love letter _ . 

I appreciate the sentiment…. But the grammar is absolutely atrocious and none of it makes sense.

I’m hoping this is a one time thing. I’ve no patience to know who this is or what they want.

I know it’s not Simon, and if it isn’t her I don’t care who it is.

**_SIMON_ **

Trixie’s fuming. It’s like her pixie cut is vibrating. It’s so weird.

“How  _ dare  _ she toss my handmade letter onto the floor. I spent quality glitter on that!” 

I give her a quizzical look and turn my gaze back to Baz.

I had asked Trixie to help me, what, seduce Baz? get her to fall in love with me? I don’t understand why, it all seems daft now that I saw her drop the letter onto the floor. She didn’t even leave it there! She stepped on it, twisting it so that it ripped in half.

I want to pick it up and shove it in her face, make her posh face all dirty.

“I mean what were we expecting?” I say, pressing my face further into the glass. I kinda want to teleport through the glass and ask Baz what the fuck she thinks she’s doing.

Trixie furrows her eyebrows and bites her lip, gazing at Baz's locker. Baz is picking off all the grey hearts Trixie and I stuck on after class.

The grey is the same grey as her eyes. Just a bit lighter. The craft paper we have at school is scarce. We’re deprived of proper crafting supplies.

“Listen. I spent so much time on that letter, I’m not letting her posh ass think she’s better than you.” Her face is pressed against the window of the class door, she’s pouting so her lips are squished against the glass of the door.

I don't understand how she's not grossed out by that.

“The thought’s nice, Trixie, but I think we should just leave her alone.”

Why’d I think this could work? If I can’t talk to her face-to-face, why could I ever have a chance with a  _ note _ ?

She huffs out a laugh and leans back, jumping up on a desk to reach my height. “Simon Snow wanting to leave Baz Pitch alone?  _ Please _ , I know you better than this. I’m your gay guru, that’s how this works.”

I stare at her.

“What? You thought you were going to tell me that you’re queer and then proceed to tell me that you liked Baz and  _ not _ expect me to help?”

I gawk at her, “what do you mean tell you? You forced it out of me!”

“Pish posh,” she waves her hand dismissively, her bracelets clinking against each other, “we need a new game plan.”

I groan and bang my head against the door,  _ what have I gotten myself into? _

**_BAZ_ **

“You got a love letter?”

I raise a brow at her as I pull my bag onto the seat beside me. “Yes. Do you not understand English anymore, Wellbelove?”

She sticks her tongue out at me and stabs her fork into her mashed potatoes. “What did it say?”

“Nothing of importance.”

“Show it to me.” She makes a grabbing motion at my backpack and I huddle it closer to me.

“No, I ripped it.”

Agatha’s eyes are nearly bulging out of their sockets and her eyebrows have almost disappeared into her hairline. “What.”

“I… ripped it?”

“Baz! You absolute fool!” She jumps up from her seat to grab my collar, shaking it furiously.

I try to push her back, but Agatha’s obsession with lacrosse has given her arms more strength. I feel like a stick compared to her.

“You know whoever sent it to you could’ve seen your reaction, right?”

“I don’t care for their reaction.” _ It’s not Simon.  _

“It could’ve been Simon.”

My nostrils flare, “no.”

“What do you mean  _ ‘no’ _ ? You’re so emo. Think positively for once.” She gives me an odd look before giving me one last shake and then lets go of my collar. She dusts off her skirt before sitting down.

“I know it isn’t Simon, the only letters I’d get from her are to have a fight or something.”

She stabs her mashed potatoes again, “at least she doesn’t grab your hair.” 

“At least she doesn’t grab my hair.”

**_SIMON_ **

This is beyond ridiculous. I feel like a fool.

Trixie has progressed to love  _ notes _ instead of love  _ letters _ . She’s making me write ten of them. I have to pretend I don’t like this.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t like it. I can see you smiling.”

“This is hell. I hate you.”

She tosses a smile over her shoulder and turns back to watching Baz. I tilt my head up and lean forward off of my chair to get a better view of her.

Trixie tuts and starts drumming her fingers on the canteen’s table, “those notes won’t write themselves, Simon.”

**_BAZ_ **

I don’t usually use my locker in the morning. I have everything I need with me for the first few classes.

And as soon as I open it… it quite literally explodes with hearts. Everyone in the hallway is staring at me as my eyes widen to the sight of another note stuck on my water bottle’s cap.

I take it in my hand and tilt it so I can read it. I’m wearing contacts today so I can see it just fine without glasses.

_ You seem like a nice person through you’re closed off demeanor. _

It’s a different day, but with the same atrocious grammar. 

This time I shove it in my pocket. When Agatha yelled at me last time I felt a twinge of guilt. 

But I still don’t care.

Obviously.

**_SIMON_ **

“Oh my god, Trixie, she put it in her pocket.”

“ _ Oh my god, Simon, she put it in her pocket!” _

I pause. She might’ve picked it up to throw it away. 

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

Trixie cackles and tilts her head back, “Oh this means something alright.” 

**_BAZ_ **

This is ridiculous. After I finished my English Lit class, I opened up my schedule to see another note.

_ I like your skin. it’s like olives. its pretty. like red olives. _

This is the weirdest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. 

I have to splash cold water on my face to come back to reality. I feel like I’m in some cheesy YA romance novel.

I find another note folded into the pockets of my gym uniform. It’s written on blue paper, with a cute doodle of what I think might be me.

_ I bet your hair is soft. like a pillow. pillows are really soft. _

As soon as I take the note out of my pocket, Agatha’s behind me, begging for a look. 

Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with her.

“Hey, tomorrow I’m going to see the hell your locker’s gone through.”

“No, no you’re not.”

I was daydreaming during gym.

In a game of dodgeball. I don’t  _ daydream _ . I usually block all thoughts of Simon out of my mind during P.E. But this whole love note fiasco is taking up all my self control. 

I wasn’t paying attention. I was so in my head that the only thing I registered was a sharp  _ thwack _ of a foam dodgeball to my chest.

My arms go to cover it as a reflex. Simon’s throws are hard.

“ _ Out!  _ Pitch, get back into the game. This isn't like you.”

And I agree with coach Mac. This isn’t like me.

I’m about to apologize to the Coach but Simon yells, “looks like something’s running on your mind, want to tell us what?”

I blink at her. The sudden attention on me has stopped the game and everyone is staring at me and Simon for all the wrong reasons.

“Or… Who?”

I snarl at her, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. “Maybe pay attention to what you’re doing.” My gaze drops down to her calves. She missed a spot shaving.

I point towards it. “Like that. You’ve missed a spot, Golden Girl.”

Simon turns a bright pink. It’s satisfying.

After gym I have lunch.

And when I checked my wallet for money… I found another note.

(Who the fuck went through my wallet?)

_ did u know that all ladybugs aren’t ladies? this seems like false advertising. _

The corner of the note has a little angry face drawn next to it. I don’t want to lie… it’s kind of cute.

But I don’t know who’s sending these letters.

And it’s making me go insane.

**_SIMON_ **

I can’t believe Baz called me out for missing a spot.

“I saw that whole thing from the stage.” Trixie wheezes, she’s laying on the floor, her bright pink hair is all over her face.

“I try my best! It’s not my fault I can’t turn my leg to see what I've missed.”

The one time I shave. The one time I don’t wear tights under my shorts. She calls me out for missing a spot.

Shouldn’t there be a rule in the girls guide for not doing that?

Trixie raises her eyebrows and stands up to grab a piece of paper from her backpack. “Listen. We can’t stop now. We’ve come far from where we started from.”

“We haven’t come that far.”

Trixie shushes me and continues in with her poor excuse of a speech, this time with her hip jut out to the side and a hand placed on it. “It is now time for extensive measures.” Her hand shoots from her side and points to the ceiling. “It’s confetti time.”

I sigh, “sweet Jesus.”

**_BAZ_ **

I don't get a note for a few days. And honestly? I’m quite relieved. I don’t want to clean my locker out again.

And because it hasn’t happened in a few days, I told Agatha. But she didn’t believe me.

“You’re just saying this so I can get off your back.”

“I would’ve done it ages ago if that’s what I was aiming for.”

“Well, too bad. I’m coming with you today.” She says, pouting.

And my biggest mistake was complying. Because as soon as soon as I open my locker to get my Science textbooks, a wave of grey confetti falls all over me.

It’s in my eyes, it’s in my mouth, it’s in my ears. It’s  _ everywhere _ and I’m mortified becaused Agatha is in hysterics and we've both fallen onto the floor.

She’s laughing so hard that she’s clutching her stomach and her head’s tilted back.

I stand up and dust the confetti off of my skirt. The worst thing about this is that whoever did this had decided to add a shitload of glitter to make this mess ten times worse.

“Oh my god, Baz-“

My nostrils flare, “no”

“But-“

“Not a word from you, Wellbelove.”

She snorts and raises her hand towards me, “pick me up? Please?”

I kick her knee and she groans in pain. 

Serves her right.

**_SIMON_ **

“I feel so bad for the janitor.”

“Hey, listen, we don’t have  _ time  _ to feel bad. We have one more thing to do.”

“What is it?” 

Trixie heads over to her backpack and snatches out her phone. “I have a date with Keris on saturday, so you might need to do this yourself.”

I furrow my eyebrows, “okay?”

“Wait no, you write it.”

“What?”

Trixie stares at the ceiling mumbling random nonsense before snapping her fingers and scribbling something on a piece of paper.

“This is what you need to do. I gotta dash, but give me a call if you need anything!” 

And with that, she’s gone. And I have a piece of paper with handwriting worse than my own.

**_BAZ_ **

I’m about to leave school when a girl with shocking pink hair comes to stand in front of me.

“Hey, um, I have to go. So if you could move that’d be appreciated.”

I try to move from beside her but she pushes her hands out beside her, “wait!”

She jabs her hands into her jumper’s pockets and pulls out a letter.

Grey, decorated with blue plastic jewels and covered with ungodly amounts of glitter.

Was she the one…? 

I’m disappointed. The one time I think that I might have a chance, it goes straight down the drain.

The girl pushes her fingers in between my eyebrows.

This is so fucking weird.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking, you posh brat, but it wasn’t me.” 

I pick her fingers off of my forehead, “... alright?”

“Read the letter,” she thrusts it above my chest, near my collar bone, “and call the number.”

I open my mouth to protest but her fingers cover my mouth, “no. Just do it.”

And then, she’s gone.

**_SIMON_ **

I can’t believe I had to tell Trixie to do it for me. But I had a Drama club meeting on thursday, and the only free period Baz had wasn’t shared with mine. 

I hope she calls.

**_BAZ_ **

This is Simon Snow's number.

I refuse to believe this is real.

But I call her anyway.

_ One, two, three… _

_ “Hello?”  _

“Simon?”

_ “Holy shit.” _

“What?”

I hear static for a few moments, and then—

_ “You called me? For real?” _

“Did you— did you not want me to?”

_ “No— That’s not what I meant. I thought that you’d be pissed. I dropped confetti on you. And, uh, kinda snooped through your locker. I swear it wasn't ill intentioned—!” _

“Does this mean that you were the one behind all this?”

_ “For someone who’s top of the class, you sure know fuck all about social cues.” _

I stay quiet for a bit, it seems like she wants to say more.

_ “Did you read the whole letter?” _

I blink, that wasn’t what I was expecting. “Yes.”

_ “So….?” _

“Yes.”

~ * ~

_ dear baz _

_ i dunno how to write letters. im quite shit at writing. i thought you’d have figured out who i am by now. but i guess you are as bright as u seem. i’ve wasted so much paper on you u absolute brat. ur so posh i bet u could buy stacks of paper. _

_ anyways, if u couldnt tell i like you, and id like to kiss you. specifically on ur lips. so if ur free saturday, id like to take u out. _

_ fries and milkshakes? xo _

_ simon snow _

_ call me — xxx-xxx-xxxx _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> simon during the whole fic: 🤡  
> trixie during the whole fic: 👺  
> baz during the whole fic: 😶  
> agatha during the whole fic: 👁👄👁  
> my [tumblr](https://eriimeri.tumblr.com)


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